Spitfire
by amillionsmiles
Summary: She's a little too old for fairy tales, but you're never too old for fun. Jack sets out to prove to one girl that sometimes the best part of life is the fun and games. [Excerpt: His ice blue eyes were scorching. "What are you going to tell your children when you're older? That you sat out what could have been some of the best days of your life?"]


_Spitfire_

* * *

Winter break was coming, and the excitement was palpable. Children skipped home from school, tiding themselves over with the assurance that in a week's time they'd be playing. The air smelled full of promise and games. Jack Frost was in his element.

"Hey Blythe, you coming to the party tonight?"

"Sorry, I can't. Have to study."

"Aw, Blythe, you've always got your nose in a book. Have a little fun for a change, will ya?"

"Maybe after midterms are finished," replied a girl with straight black hair, who by now Jack had inferred was Blythe. She hunched her shoulders as she turned away, burying her nose in her scarf as she trudged down the sidewalk. Her book bag swung against her hips as she walked, made heavy by the books and binders crammed into it.

She looked miserable. And as the Guardian of Fun, it was Jack's duty to put studious sixteen-year-old girls out of their misery. He formed a snowball and launched it right in front of her. The powdery ball flew apart as it hit the sidewalk, flinging sludge at the girl's jeans.

Blythe stopped, startled. She looked up to try and find the source of the snowball, but Jack had already leapt onto another rooftop. Blythe shrugged and pulled her jacket closer and continued on her way.

Jack frowned. What would it take to ruffle this girl? Interest piqued, he followed her as she walked home.

Her house was unimpressive, the same as all the others on the street: white stone, two levels, gray roof. A light went on in a room on the second floor. Jack flew up and perched on the balcony, peering through the window. Blythe had taken off her jacket and loosened the scarf around her neck. The lamp at her desk table was on. A hefty biology book sat open on top of her desk, and Blythe deftly wielded a highlighter in the other hand.

Jack wrinkled his nose. Could this girl get any more boring? He pushed on the window gently. It gave a little under his touch. Good, it wasn't locked. Grinning, Jack aimed a blast of cold air at the windows, blowing them open. The wind rushed into the room, flapping the pages of the book, causing Blythe to lose her place.

Annoyed, she got up and fought her way to her windows, where she managed to hold them closed long enough to bolt them.

From where he'd hid on the roof, Jack swung down, peering into Blythe's room upside-down. She'd picked up the biology book again.

Jack smiled to himself. It seemed like his work was cut out for him; he was going to have a lot of fun causing mischief for the next few days.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

At around 10:00 at night the faint sound of music could be heard through the neighborhood. Lights were on a few streets down. A party was going on. Now _these_ were kids who knew how to have fun, Jack thought as he observed them. There was no work for him to do here, so he took off, flying over the rooftops.

He stopped by Blythe's room—he'd been doing that on and off all day. Honestly, the girl's stamina kind of impressed him, even as it freaked him out. She was glued to that chair. Seriously.

Except this time, when he landed on her balcony, the lights were finally off. She'd pulled curtains over the window, as well. Jack turned to go, but stopped in his tracks as he heard a sound behind him—the turn of a handle. Quickly, he flew onto the roof, where he peered over the edge, curious.

Blythe stepped into view, clothed in flannel pajamas. She stood, silently, listening. Her head swiveled in the direction of the music coming from the party down the block, and Jack read the longing in her posture. Blythe moved closer to the railing of the balcony. She braced her arms on the cold, white railing and leaned over, as if gauging the distance from her window to the ground.

Jack's eyes narrowed. This was interesting.

Blythe tested her weight gingerly and took a breath. She straightened her shoulders, as if steeling herself, swung one leg over the edge…and stopped. Her shoulders sagged. She pulled her leg back onto solid ground before hanging her head and sighing. Her knuckles were white as they gripped the balcony's railing.

"I'll catch you if you jump." Jack said the words on a whim, not expecting her to hear him. Fourteen was the boundary for most before he became invisible again, just some myth. Some kids stopped believing sooner. And no way would an uptight girl like Blythe believe in a story like him.

Except Blythe turned towards the sound of his voice, her eyes widening. She gave a muffled shriek before grabbing the closest object to her to use as a weapon—which happened to be a small potted plant.

Jack rose slowly so as to not startle her, but also because he didn't want a miniature cactus being flung at him. He could easily deflect it with his staff, of course, but it would probably make a lot of noise. "Whoa, take it easy, I don't mean any harm."

"Have you been _watching me?"_

Jack chose to evade the question. "Can you put the pot down? You're wielding a sharp object and it's kinda making me nervous."

Blythe didn't put the pot down. "Only if you come out of the shadows."

Jack blinked. He'd forgotten that he was shrouded in darkness at the moment. Picking up his staff, he asked, "Promise not to freak?"

"Then what the heck do you call what I'm doing right now?" Blythe answered shakily.

"True," Jack said as he landed in front of her, the moonlight washing over his features. "Ta-da."

Blythe looked on the verge of fainting. "Oh my god."

"Not quite," said Jack.

Blythe stared at him blankly. "What?"

"I'm not a god. Immortal, maybe, but—"

"Oh my god," Blythe said again, setting the pot down slowly. She brought her hands up to her face and rubbed her eyes. "Are you for real?"

"Yes, I'm real."

"No, I mean—do I know you? Why were you on my roof? Are you—are you a _stalker?" _Blythe's voice rose in pitch. "I have to call the police."

"Aw, so soon? C'mon, we were just warming up to each other. Hi, I'm Jack Frost, and I have magical powers," Jack introduced with a flourish.

Blythe rubbed her temples and shook her head. "This is just a dream," she murmured to herself, pacing. "All my recent stress is getting to me and I'm going crazy. It's just exhaustion, fatigue, whatever."

Jack tapped his foot on the tile of the balcony. Watching Blythe debate with herself over the state of her mind was boring. He moved his staff slightly and froze the potted plant to occupy himself.

Blythe froze. "Did you just do that?" she gaped, eyes darting from his staff to her cactus-in-an-icecube.

Jack shrugged. "Maybe."

"What _are_ you?" wondered Blythe, still processing what had just happened.

"Who," corrected Jack.

"Who are you?" amended Blythe.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Do you want the long version or the short version?"

Blythe bit her lip. "Short version," she decided.

"I'm Jack Frost."

"Okay, long version," reconsidered Blythe.

"Well," said Jack, clearing his throat and leaning on his staff, "I'm Jack Frost as in the Jack Frost of all those stories. Bringing snow and cold weather and all that good winter stuff is my job. I also bring joy to little children."

"I thought that was Santa Claus."

"Oh, please, give me some credit here. North would be nothing without good ol' Christmas snow," Jack huffed.

"North?" Blythe asked confusedly.

"North, Santa Claus, same person," Jack explained.

Blythe held up a hand. "So you mean to tell me that you're an ageless winter spirit disguised as a teenage boy."

Jack grinned. "This isn't a disguise."

Blythe made a step forward, as if to go inside. Jack stopped her, his staff barring the way. "Look, if you don't believe me, let me show you." He turned towards her window and laid a hand on the glass. It frosted up beneath his fingers. He looked at her beseechingly. "See?"

Blythe nodded. "No, no…I believe you, I'm just…having a hard time processing things right now."

Jack blinked, startled. "Really? You don't think I'm just some—some crazy person?"

Blythe smiled for the first time that night. "I want to believe you, so I will. It's as simple as that, and if it really does turn out to be a dream in the morning then it'll be a splendid dream, and if this is real that's even better. And right now I'm hoping it's real. So, yes, I believe you. But I also think you're crazy."

"Crazy awesome," Jack retorted.

They stood in silence sizing each other up before Blythe spoke again. "Can I touch you?"

"What?" Jack balked.

"Like...poke you. To see if you're solid," Blythe said slowly.

"Oh. Go for it," granted Jack.

Blythe took two steps forward and punched him in the stomach.

"_Ow!"_ Jack said, doubling over. "What was that for?"

Blythe was busy inspecting her hand. "Well, it didn't go through you, so you must be real after all," she decided before turning her gaze on him. "And that, Jack Frost, is for scaring the living daylight out of me and freezing over my cactus."

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

If last night's encounter had left an impression on her, Blythe didn't show it. She walked home from school with the same shuffling step, eyes on the ground, and went straight up to her room to do her work. Jack felt disappointed. What was the point of someone believing in you if they didn't _do_ anything about it? Blythe didn't turn her eyes skyward and try to spot him or anything, and the same lonely, unappreciated feeling that Jack thought he'd chased away years ago resurfaced.

That was what brought him to her window again that afternoon. He rapped on the glass panes, smirking when Blythe jumped, startled, out of her seat.

"So it wasn't just a dream," remarked Blythe as she opened the windows.

Jack hopped onto the carpet, dusting himself off as he looked around her room. Her pale blue walls were bare save for a few photos and framed certificates, and Blythe's bed was made neatly. Of course.

"Of course it wasn't a dream," replied Jack. "Do you think you could dream up anyone as dashing as me?" he said playfully, dragging his feet through her soft carpet.

Blythe's eyes flashed as she looked him up and down. "Your hair is an unnatural color. And don't get my carpet dirty." She looked pointedly at his bare feet.

Jack wiggled his toes. "No worries, it's as white as the rest of me."

"So it appears." Blythe's eyes darted towards her homework before they flitted back to his face. "Is there a reason you're here? I mean, it's not like I have a winter spirit showing up in my room every day."

Jack spun his staff in hand and brought it to rest behind his shoulder blades, each hand holding it in place. "Just having fun," he answered.

"Fun," Blythe said flatly.

"You should try it some time," Jack said breezily, flopping onto Blythe's carefully made sheets. "It sure beats reading boring books and—"

"Get off my bed."

"What?"

"I barely know you and I don't know where you've been all day and I don't want you on my bed," Blythe ordered sternly. "How old are you, anyway? Because you act and look like a teenage boy."

"Three hundred and something, but who's keeping count?" answered Jack, obeying Blythe's order and perching on her bedpost instead. "And you?"

"I turn seventeen in February," said Blythe. "And I still don't get why you're here."

"Jeez, you sure have a one-track mind," sighed Jack. "Basically, aside from being a winter spirit and whatnot, I'm also a Guardian. The Guardian of Fun, to be more specific. And you're about as far away from fun as a person can get, so it's my duty to make your life more interesting."

"Did you come up with that yourself? 'Guardian of Fun?' Because that has to be the lamest moniker I've heard," said Blythe, who had folded her arms and looked unimpressed at Jack's job description.

"Judgmental, much?" retorted Jack. "And who talks like that, anyway? 'Moniker?' See, this is why I have to give you an education in life."

"Too late," Blythe said. "See this?" She rapped on the cover of a textbook. "This is my life. An education. So I can make my parents proud." Something closed up in her face as she said that—her expression became tighter, almost pinched. Jack wasn't sure what to do.

"I'll come back later," he offered.

Blythe's brow furrowed. "What?"

"You have to go back to studying, right? So I'll come back later when you aren't busy," he explained.

"I never agreed to this—"

But Jack was already out the window, hovering in mid-air. "Until next time," he winked, zipping off into the winter sky.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Christmas Eve came knocking, and so did Jack. Blythe opened her window, her breath coming out in puffs.

"I think that next time, when you say 'See you later,' you should clarify exactly how much later. Because two weeks is kind of a stretch," she muttered.

Jack's blue eyes sparkled delightedly. "So you _did_ want to see me," he declared triumphantly.

Blythe snorted. "So are you going to make it snow tonight or what?"

"You'll see. Come out on the balcony," coaxed Jack.

Blythe grumbled but pulled on a jacket and some shoes before she padded out into the cold. The moonlight made her black hair gleam like inky water, and her brown eyes were still clouded over with a few remnants of sleep. For the first time, Jack noticed how pale he was in comparison to her, with her sun-kissed skin and freckles.

He swung himself over the balcony's edge and held himself aloft on a gust of air.

"What are you doing?" inquired Blythe.

Jack turned to her and held out a hand, his staff in the other. "Do you trust me?"

Blythe wrinkled her nose at him, her freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose like stars in the sky. It was odd—they clustered around her cheeks and nose and nowhere else, an almost straight line of little brown dots. "No, actually. I don't trust you."

Jack smiled slyly. "Even better. Nothing like a little distrust to add some excitement to things."

And with that said, he grabbed her hand and pulled her over the ledge.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Blythe shrieked as they plummeted. Jack shot them upwards into the sky just as it seemed they would hit the ground, whooping and hollering at the top of his lungs. They climbed higher and higher, the chimney tops fading below.

Somehow, in the midst of Jack's spiral upwards, Blythe had shifted so that she was behind him, clutching his waist with all her might, holding on for her life. Her face was buried in his back and he could hear her breathing shakily.

"Blythe." It was his first time saying her name. Jack liked the way it rolled off his tongue. "It's okay, you're not going to fall."

She squeezed him even tighter at the word "fall." "Blythe, c'mon, look down. You won't regret it, I promise," Jack coaxed.

He felt her shake her head furiously. "No," she said, her voice muffled by his sweatshirt.

"You need to see this," Jack insisted. "Five seconds. Open your eyes and look down for five seconds, and if you're still freaking out we'll go back to your room. Okay?"

Slowly, Blythe peeled her face away from where she'd burrowed into Jack's jacket and looked down. Jack watched her carefully over his shoulder.

Below them, the street lamps were on, casting faint glows, and the roofs of the houses looked like some great, gray rolling sea. In the distance they saw the city lights winking.

"It's beautiful," whispered Blythe, staring in awe. "I…" she gaped, speechless. "This is amazing."

"It'll look even better when snow's covering the rooftops," said Jack, his voice tinged with pride.

Blythe's eyes cut to him, questioning.

He nodded, preparing to swoop through the skies with his staff. "Hold on tight, because I'm about to make it snow."

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry, I OC'd. I know some people in the fandom are rapidly tiring of all the Jack/OC stories out there, but I hope that mine isn't ruled out simply because it contains an OC, because I am still putting a lot of effort into this piece. I loved this idea too much to do away with it, and maybe after I finish this story I'll write some Jack/Tooth fluff. Who knows? This was originally going to be a one-shot but it's pretty long, so, rather than dump it all on you guys now I'm breaking it up into four parts (one for each season). That way, I'll have time to go back and edit more and fine tune things.

In the meantime, **please give me some feedback.**No matter what I write, my goal is to get better, so** constructive criticism, thought****s and comments are welcome.**

And above all, thank you for taking some time out of your day to read this. Have a virtual cookie. :P


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